A Portrait of Ayn Rand on Acid

Colorful digital painting of Ayn Rand based on a black and white screenshot of a video that asks why Ayn Rand is still a thing.
Portrait of Ayn Rand on Acid.

This post seems to have come out of nowhere. The images are based on screenshots from a Last Week Tonight segment that asks, Ayn Rand –
How Is She Still A Thing?

Black and White  digital painting of Ayn Rand based on a black and white screenshot of a video that asks why Ayn Rand is still a thing.
Portrait of Ayn Rand, Coming Down from Acid

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A Dream About Matthew

I see all of San Francisco from the summit of Mount Haleakalā.

It is dawn and a dense fog settles as a crown around my head.

A jagged crack slaps my face.

Matthew turns to ask:

“What is the total of every moment ever spent?”

An angel with a sword appears and stabs him in the heart.

“What a peculiar idealist!” I say.

Matthew dies and together we spread his ashes.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017 All Rights Reserved

Question Mark And The Mysterians  – 96 Tears
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17 St Phillips Street – Part Eleven-

Art by Rob Goldstein

To love Bobby was to learn how to say what you meant or leave.

Bobby didn’t understand hypocrisy as a social skill; the good manners of the little white lie.

He was blunt and spoke his mind.

His response when told that most straight people would never accept gays was, “I don’t want straights to accept me; I want them out of my way.”

It was this certainty that made Bobby popular with other kids his age.

He had an unshakable faith in his right to be alive.

Bobby was writing in his journal when Maurice came home.

Maurice was a liberal arts student at the College of Charleston.

He had a  dose of windowpane with him and he asked Bobby to share it with him.

They retreated to the attic room that Maurice called ‘La Petit Versailles.’

The decor of La Petit Versailles was a pastiche of crushed velvet, fake French Provincial, and black light room with water-bed.

A rain lamp hung over a bed stand on the left.

‘Daybreak’ by Maxfield Parrish hung above the bed.

Art by Rob Goldstein

On the right hand side was a wire frame chair with a red crushed velvet seat.

Above it hung a poster of the back cover of Lou Reed’s ‘Transformer Album.

Art by Rob Goldstein

Maurice and Bobby sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

Maurice took a razor, placed the tiny dose of acid on a mirror and carefully sliced it into two equal parts.

Bobby licked his finger, picked up his half and placed it on his tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” said Maurice. “Let it dissolve.”

They laid back and waited.

“What was it like with, Joe?” Maurice asked.

“I don’t know,” said Bobby. “I don’t remember.”

Maurice laughed. “That’s pretty bad, Miss Bobby.”

Bobby frowned.

“You feelin’ anything, Maurice?”

“Not yet, Miss Bobby.”

“Ya know, Maurice. You callin’ me, Miss is annoying.”

Maurice laughed, “I knew you before your sex change, Miss Bobby?”

A triangle sprouted from the top of Bobby’s head and drifted to the ceiling.

Bobby was adamant: “Gay dudes don’t have to call each other miss no more. We can be men?”

“What if I just wanna be a queen?” asked Maurice.

“Why would you wanna be that?”

“Because that’s what I am.”

Bobby pressed his feet into the mattress and the bed sloshed and made waves.

“If you say a word that means something, that means you think according to what that word means, so if you don’t use the word, you don’t think that way.” Bobby grinned brightly at the elegance of his thought.

“That’s crazy, Miss Bobby!…You can use a dozen different words for trash but trash is still trash.”

Bobby frowned “People ain’t trash Maurice. We ain’t supposed to throw people away.”

Maurice made lazy circles with an unlit cigarette. “We call folks that use nice words to do bad things hypocrites!”

“You sayin’ I’m a hypocrite?”

“Sometimes ya are Miss Bobby. You’re also great big faggot queen! Come on! It’s  8PM…Let’s go dancing and be sisters again!

“Do you think me having this beard makes me a hypocrite?”

Maurice giggled: “I think it makes you lesbian.”

And in seconds they were dancing at the bar.

Art by Rob Goldstein
Googly Eyes

Oh don’t lean on me man, ’cause you can’t afford the ticket
I’m back on Suffragette City
Oh don’t lean on me man
‘Cause you ain’t got time to check it
You know my Suffragette City
Oh don’t lean on me man, ’cause you can’t afford the ticket
I’m back on Suffragette City
Suffragette City
David Bowie-Singles Collection 01
Topics Rock, glam rock, art rock
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Related post: 17 St Phillip Street – A Belated Introduction